


the best thing i ever did

by stanyeol



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Kidfic, Light Angst, M/M, Slice of Life, alternating POVs bc he wrote a paper, krisho as teenage parents, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanyeol/pseuds/stanyeol
Summary: psych 10 final paper theme: “the best things i ever did”. (please submit via edmodo on the 16th.)all junmyeon needed was to look at his family to know his answer.





	the best thing i ever did

**Author's Note:**

> un-beta'd bc this was supposed to be a surprise (well, not really—they know i'm working on this) for my betas/friends who keep on saying that we (1) can't write short scenes and (2) can't write anything light sksksk
> 
> GUESS WHAT: WE CAN it's just really, _really_ bad. i'm sorry
> 
> title came from the twice song of the same name that i overplayed while writing this.

## PSYCH 10: JOURNEY INTO THE SELF

### [ANNOUNCEMENT]

To make way for the upcoming Christmas holidays, your final paper will be due on the 16th of December.

Instructions:

The theme for the final paper is “The Best Thing/s I Ever Did.” You are free to write however way you want, in whatever tone or voice you wish, or language you’re comfortable in.

However, I will be grading you on the following: 

    1. Technical proficiency (10%): Please comply with the grammar and usage rules of the language you are writing in. Although I am tolerant of creative freedom, I am not tolerant of non-standard abbreviations, capitalization, and punctuation or the usage of memes or reaction pictures to convey your sentiments. REMEMBER: I am a psychologist, not a cryptologist, and I am asking for a paper, not a new entry to the Rorschach test.
    2. Answers to guide questions (30%):
      1. Who are you? Introduce yourself.
      2. Which factors do you think contributed most to what you are now as a person? Elaborate.
      3. What are the struggles that you have had in your life, in relation to yourself, your family, school, peers, relationships, and society, and how have you coped with them?
    3. Introspection or self-evaluation in answering the main prompt (60%): This course is designed to teach students to think and reflect, using the theories of psychology discussed in the class and the self as the main case example. Examine your experiences and analyze your actions in order to efficiently answer the main question. 

Note: Under the Department of Psychology’s Data Privacy Rule, all of your personal information in this paper will be kept confidential. I will be the ONLY ONE with access (aside from you, of course).

Should you have any questions or contests with my subsequent grade on your output, I have elected Prof. Siwon Choi, MD, PhD. to serve as a cross reference. Only then will your paper be viewed by someone else other than me and you.

Sincerely,

**Prof. Heechul Kim, MPH, PsyD.**

Department of Psychology

SM Institute, Lee Soo Man Building

Room 922, Faculty Center

+922-0981; (02) 403-0396

* * *

> _WU, Junmyeon K._
> 
> _2015-10001_
> 
> _Psych 10 - Journey Into the Self _
> 
> _Dr. Heechul Kim_
> 
> ### The Best Things I Ever Did
> 
> _My name is Junmyeon Kim, and I am twenty years old. I came from a small, sleepy town around four hours from Busan, where I lived with my parents and my older brother, who is eight years older than me. Currently, I live in the heart of Seoul for university, with my husband Yifan, an artist, and our four-year-old Zitao, the love of my life._
> 
> _I grew up in a coastal village, where my father was a fish vendor and my mother was the local elementary school teacher, showing the magic of science to seven-year-olds. Both of my parents were significantly older when they had me, with my mother entering her forties cradling a newborn baby. I was a welcome surprise, they’d say. A blessing from the heavens, as if I were an abundance of fish washed ashore from the frozen winter sea._
> 
> _With my parents pillars in the community, it was no wonder that my brother also followed their footsteps. He was the local whiz kid: student council president, valedictorian, and torn apart by competing athletic and academic scholarship offers. He ultimately chose the former, because athletes were given more allowance money. So at 16 years old, my brother had a full ride scholarship all the way until law school._
> 
> _Meanwhile at 16, I got pregnant with my son. You could probably imagine how my parents—and our small town—reacted with that news._

* * *

as soon as the bell rang, junmyeon grabbed his backpack and fled the room. he sidestepped his classmates beelining towards prof. kim, looking eager and excited. junmyeon sat beside two of the ones in the group currently talking to their professor; they had spent the entire last five minutes of the class gussying up.

he didn’t know if it were the generation gap or the sheer insanity of it, but he was fine with being out of touch with the whole university's open secret _“hitch a ride with heechul”_ challenge going on. honestly, if he were the professor, he'd file a sexual harassment lawsuit, but nonetheless, the man was too enamored talking about freud to realize what was going on.

right before he stepped out of the room, he met his friend minseok, who was standing idly, waiting for him. there was disgust strewn plainly across the older man’s face as he observed the scene near the professor’s table.

junmyeon would’ve laughed at him, but he heard one of the girls exaggeratedly gasp. “really? i can’t believe freud believed dicks were that powerful,” she said. “what do _you_ think, dr. kim?”

he couldn’t help it. turning around, he gave the scene one curious look—something he instantly regretted as he saw the number of hands playing itsy-bitsy-spider on the professor’s bicep. how a man with two phds manages to remain oblivious is something he’d never understand.

beside him, minseok groaned, and pulled his arm. “let’s go, myeon. this is too ridiculous, even for us.”

he giggled as they left. truer words have never been spoken.

* * *

> _My parents were disappointed—my father refused to talk to me for months, while instantly, my brother lost all ounce of respect for me. But I guess what cemented the whole ordeal was how I saw my mother’s heart break as she tried to balance and rebuild the family that I ruined—all because I wanted to keep my new one together._
> 
> _I don’t like going into detail with what happened when I was 16 and pregnant, and unfortunately, uncasted on that MTV show, but I think it’s enough to know that it involved huge fights with broken vases and tear-filled eyes, with the father of my child being at the end of beatings and him and his mother—newcomers to our small town—shunned away immediately._
> 
> _Hence, at 16, I wasn’t just granted a son. Overnight, I found myself having a new family too. (If Erik Eriksen were still alive, he’d surely find my case interesting.)_

* * *

minseok opened his trusty layered lunch box, the one which he boasted about retaining heat for the entire day, took one layer and pushed it toward junmyeon’s direction. he would have said no, but the sweet and sour pork was too tempting to resist.

still, to be polite—even though he knew minseok would fight him for it, anyway—he shook his head and pushed it back to its owner.

“it’s okay, minmin,” he said, smiling. “yifan made too much for dinner last night. i bought leftovers.” he tapped his own lunchbox, a small, light blue one he nicked from zitao, for good measure.

cinderella smiled at him from the lunchbox cover, her eyes glinting as if reminding him of how his son would go berserk when he realized his favorite lunchbox was missing. sorry, zitao. your parents were too lazy last night to wash the dishes.

minseok quirked an eyebrow at him. “leftovers? what’s that—two pieces of chicken nuggets and a half cup of rice?” his friend sighed. “c’mon, junmyeon. our wallets are practically the same, but i live alone and don’t have a kid or a husband to support.” he pushed the lunchbox toward junmyeon again. “eat.”

well, it wasn’t like he was going to say no to free food.

* * *

> _As much as I’d like to say that friends helped me with what I had just gone through, they didn’t—primarily because they didn’t exist. It had always been just me, hiding under my brother’s tails, lurking around like his shadow. _
> 
> _And then when Yifan, my now-husband, came along, things changed a bit—or as “a bit” as falling in love headfirst and risking it all to have a baby. But I have always had a hard time having friends who were just that—friends. There were a few that I hung out with, but I knew that _they_, along with everyone else, knew that we weren’t friends._
> 
> _Maybe because I was just unpleasant to be with (God, I hope not), or maybe because no one just wanted to be friends with a shadow. Ghosts are meant to be banished anyway. (And they did just _that_, didn’t they?)_
> 
> _So when I met Minseok—as in, actually meet him and not just casually greeting each other in the hallways—I felt excited. However, I’d like to say that it wasn’t because I finally had a friend—which sounded pathetic but still bore a sliver of truth—but because I realized that I wasn’t a ghost anymore._
> 
> _Finally, I was alive enough to be worth keeping._

* * *

there was a time, maybe in some obscure point in the distant past, that he would’ve felt hurt or even offended by minseok’s perseverance. he wasn’t a charity case, he would’ve said. then he would keep on pushing that he could handle it.

but really, he couldn’t—at least not as well as he wanted to. minseok was right; they were practically in the same boat, only junmyeon’s faced a different current that the one minseok’s had.

he and minseok met when they were in high school, as fresh-faced as two acne-ridden teenagers could be, as _minseok kim, skincare extraordinaire_ could be. (hey—they all started from somewhere.)

they were both members of the same irrelevant department in the student council, communicating with each other through silent nods and soft amused snorts as the overachievers busted it out with one another. despite four years of being classmates, and in fact sitting close to one another, they weren’t friends. just acquaintances, like those people you add on facebook for the sole purpose of knowing about other people’s lives, instead of actually keeping in touch with.

they only met again four years ago, when he suddenly went into labor in the middle of the grocery store, and minseok was coincidentally looking for coffee in the same aisle junmyeon was in. no amount of awkwardness or shyness could keep him from clutching onto the older man, especially with zitao not due for another month and yifan busy at work.

when 4 pounds worth of a crying infant came out of him eight hours later, junmyeon knew that minseok was there to stay.

so when minseok had the grand idea of applying to university again, a dream he had then shelved to work immediately after graduation, and pulled junmyeon with him to enroll too, he let himself be swayed in minseok’s current. he let the cynicism dissipate and just nod along all the scholarship suggestions.

there was a reason, he believed, why he and minseok met again.

and if that reason involved a crying infant and crying together over infants in psych classes, well, then so be it.

* * *

> _Minseok Kim is a formidable force. He bridges the impossible with reality by spitting on the impossible and conjuring magic for it to become real. It happened when my water broke in the coffee aisle of the grocery store, when my family finally fully cut me off, and when, despite the spare change that lined my husband and I’s pockets, he broached the idea of going to university._
> 
> _Again, I repeat: _Spare change lining pockets. No money. Struggling teenage parents_. But Minseok Kim, with his armor of coffee, scholarship applications, and sheer willpower, managed to pull me through university with him._
> 
> _And with that, I learned an important lesson from him: Courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to take risks—and _that _alone will get you _anywhere_._
> 
> _(But the most important lesson that I’ve learned is that friends like that will take you with them, no matter what.)_

* * *

after getting roped by minseok into the traitorous 50% promo from the milk tea place near their school ("how dare you, baekhyun, take advantage of my weakness," were his friend's words to their favorite barista as he parted ways to his 2-day no milk tea streak), junmyeon was finally free to do his errands.

they talked about this in sociology class, about how women had "second shifts"—going to work, then having another job at home to tend to the husband and the children. he wasn't a woman, but he can't help but sympathize with their struggle. whether you're a woman; or young, struggling to make ends meet, and responsible for the most precious four-year-old ever like him, you're bound to struggle under the same oppressive system.

but he has long learned that fighting that system every day is part of his responsibilities, because isn't that what parenthood is all about—trying your hardest for a bright future for your child?

he scoffed. he was being too dramatic when all he was going to do was go to the grocery store.

they were out of zitao's milk, yifan had said in a text to him this morning. and rice, vinegar, and basically every other ingredient they'd need for lunch and dinner for the following week. he needed extra help, he had said, and junmyeon knew that his husband would only ask for this if he didn't have a choice.

no, junmyeon didn't have any complaints with grocery shopping, but he knew yifan did—or at least yifan did when it comes to him.

"but you're studying," the tall man would whine whenever junmyeon would try to help out. "this is the least i could do," his husband would always say, the "for knocking you up" going unspoken.

they were sixteen when junmyeon got pregnant, fresh out of high school, wide-eyed with a few dots of teenage acne still littering their cheeks. yifan had to let go of a basketball scholarship, while junmyeon's mother's plans for her son to go to the seminary dissipated into dust. in an instant, their lives were changed and plans were forever altered.

but all of it were worth it just to have zitao.

he didn't notice that he had been smiling absently while walking until his cheeks started to hurt. rolling his eyes at his silliness, junmyeon answered his beeping phone.

“wubwub?” yifan's deep voice filtered from the other end, sounding a bit distressed. at the background, zitao's unmistakable laughter—or more like, cackle—could be heard. junmyeon smiled. no wonder why.

"i'll be there in a while. i'm right around the corner, so i think around five more minutes?" junmyeon said.

he could hear zitao excitedly chanting "koko krunch" to his father from the background, and judging from yifan still not responding, he knew that the man was two steps away from caving in their son's request.

junmyeon tutted his tongue, trying to get his husband's attention. "yifan wu, don't you dare. do you really think taotao needs more sugar?" he hissed.

yifan's weary sigh answered him back. he could practically see the picture—zitao sitting at the child's seat at the grocery cart, and yifan hunched over the other end, brow furrowed in exhaustion but still smiling at his son. his husband would look at zitao's giggling face, and his smile would actually reach his eyes, heart thoroughly melted. then he'd take one giant step, from one cart end to the other, and trap zitao to give him a sloppy raspberry kiss on the cheek.

and yes, zitao would get his koko krunch.

junmyeon has seen this happen too often already—too much, if you'd ask him.

with yifan's silence, junmyeon sighed back. "he has the koko krunch now, huh?" he asked.

guilt laced yifan's words. "but looooove," he whined. "you should've seen him pouting. plus, i thought he was going to cry soon. it's just koko krunch, though. if he gets too hyper, we can always be the ones to eat it instead."

from the background, zitao complained. "nuh-uh, baba! koko kunch, mine! taotao, mine!"

yifan snorted, then tried to whine back at his son. "aww, taotao." junmyeon could practically hear the pout in yifan's voice. "you should share with baba—"

"—no sha-ying! baba, no koko!"

"well, what about appa?" yifan asked.

zitao was quiet for a moment, before finally deciding, "appa little only."

yifan faked a gasp. "hear that, love? your son is calling you little. this is why you should hurry up already."

"you're insufferable, yifan wu," junmyeon said, rolling his eyes. he was entering the grocery store already, but he was enjoying being on the phone with his husband.

zitao was the one who spotted him first. "appa!" zitao said, dropping the box of koko krunch on the cart, in favor of receiving kisses from his favorite parent.

tickling his son, junmyeon stole a glance at yifan, who was busy smiling at them from the other end. "insufferable?" yifan said. "you suffered having a child with me so..."

junmyeon stuck his tongue out at him, to which yifan eagerly responded the same.

* * *

“hmm. what should we make for dinner next week? i’m tired of your noodles, wubs,” junmyeon asked.

his husband quirked an eyebrow as he adjusted a sleepy zitao in his arms. there was no more room for the boy in the cart anymore, and junmyeon knew that the only way to stop a tantrum before it even started was for zitao to be carried.

he didn’t know where zitao got it from, but the toddler was a cuddle monster—not that junmyeon and yifan were complaining, though. besides, junmyeon could see that his son was as cute as him. there was no way his husband would be able to resist.

“spaghetti?” yifan suggested.

junmyeon glared at him. yifan just smirked, and poked his sleepy son’s cheek.

“hey, taotao,” yifan whispered. “do you want spaghetti?”

immediately, the boy perked up. “spa-eh-ti?”

yifan nodded, his head bobbing like those silly dogs at cars’ dashboards. “yes, taotao. do you want spaghetti?” then, he smirked at junmyeon, a malicious glint twinkling in his eye before pouting at his son. “too bad appa doesn’t want them.”

inwardly, junmyeon groaned. he had lost the battle already. his son loved spaghetti, and yifan went low enough to bring his son against him too. the betrayal would have soured junmyeon’s mood, but he resolved to making yifan chop the onions instead. the taller man’s eyes were no match to those, anyway.

predictably, zitao’s face fell, crumpling. his brow furrowed and junmyeon could see his son’s lower lip jutted out, wobbling. then, he looked at junmyeon, teary-eyed, before asking in a broken whisper, “appa no like spa-eh-ti?”

yep. yifan was going to chop the garlic too—and he wasn’t allowed to complain a single word of the smell sticking to his fingers. his paintings were to smell like garlic, for all junmyeon cared.

“what? no, taotao!” junmyeon exclaimed, dropping one slobbery kiss on his son’s cheek, which made the boy giggle. _one point for junmyeon_. “appa like spa-eh-ti!” he consoled his son.

behind the sniffling zitao, yifan smugly smiled.

* * *

> _While Minseok managed to pull me through labor and university, I’d like to believe that my husband pulled me through life. I was 15 when I met Yifan, who was then a new student, during the summer of our junior year. And as I got to know him more, I got to know myself—not _more_, but _finally_._
> 
> _Being left in the dark for so long, and pushing yourself to hide in the shadows… it was a ridiculous feeling to be with someone who believed in your light, even when you believed it didn’t exist. It’s an even more ridiculous feeling when you have started believing in that light too—much more _seeing_ that light._
> 
> _And in the face of that light, all I could remember was ruing the 15 years that I didn’t spend with him._

* * *

the sky was already dark when they managed to go home. despite junmyeon’s arrival, it must have taken them around two hours to actually get finished with the grocery shopping. after the debacle with the spaghetti, they even bickered about which cheese to buy.

it didn’t help either that yifan just had to tour zitao around the entire grocery store, narrating his birth story—all to make sure that zitao would be awake as they go home. they hadn’t had dinner yet, and a hungry zitao would surely wake up earlier than he should be the next day.

yifan’s efforts didn’t work, though, because the moment they arrived home, zitao was still dead asleep. none of them had the heart to wake their son up for dinner, though.

junmyeon put away their groceries first, as yifan tucked zitao into bed. this wasn’t far from their nightly routine: junmyeon would finish cleaning up after dinner (as much as he could without yifan’s interference) and his husband would be the one in charge of preparing zitao for bed. then he’d follow into zitao’s room to read the boy his nightly bedtime story.

storms may come and go, and other plans may hinder them from fully fleshing out this routine, but yifan was adamant that it was followed. they didn’t have much, he would always say, but he’d be damned if zitao didn’t feel loved by both his fathers every day of his life.

with that, junmyeon couldn’t find any objections.

yifan had their son’s head on his lap, gently stroking zitao’s hair when junmyeon entered the room. it was a small room, practically a too-large-but-too-perfect corner that they just renovated with a few pieces of wood and a door for zitao. there wasn’t much space to make for an adequate play area, but they compensated with the playpen and rubber mats that took over their living room.

at zitao’s opposite side, his legion of stuffed animals sat by, watching him as he slept. however, his favorite companion, panpan (_“panpan like baba, appa! panpan! i-pan!_), a small stuffed black and white panda, was hugged tightly between zitao’s little arms.

junmyeon sat next to yifan, resting his cheek on the latter’s shoulder. “he might melt, you know, the way you keep staring at him,” he commented.

a soft rumble came from yifan. “how can someone so little be so perfect, wubwub?” with his index finger, yifan traced zitao’s features, drawing circles on his cheek.

“what did you expect? he came from me,” junmyeon joked. with a soft laugh, he added, “anyway, i hope you still say the same thing when he wakes up early later, asking for food.”

junmyeon pressed a soft kiss on the point of yifan’s shoulder, running his free hand on his husband’s back. it had been his habit since he and yifan were younger, as the latter tended to let his sweat dry and get sick after. luckily, it didn’t seem sticky or cold to the touch.

still staring at their son, yifan took his free hand and reached back to junmyeon to cup his cheek. “it’s just… isn’t it ridiculous how i was blessed with the existence of you two? i mean, life could have dealt me different cards—”

“—and you’ll never know any better, wubs,” junmyeon giggled. he took his husband’s hand into his, and kissed his knuckles. “you’re thinking too much. what brought this on, anyway?”

yifan stayed quiet for a while, the smile slipping from his face. he appeared pensive, his gaze steady and fixed on their son. “i mean,” he started, “it’s not like i deserve you two.”

perhaps it was intuition, or just brought about by knowing yifan for years, but something lurched inside junmyeon. his stomach tied itself into knots and even though he never had the habit of worrying without any solid basis, he could feel his insides turn into ice.

junmyeon squeezed yifan’s hand that was intertwined with his. with his other hand, he tangled his fingers in yifan’s long hair, rubbing the pads of his fingertips along his husband’s scalp in the way that he knew would relax him.

it didn’t work. as junmyeon rested his head on yifan’s shoulder, he could feel the tense muscles underneath, and he knew—he just _knew_—that it wasn’t because of exhaustion.

“how was your day, wubs?” junmyeon asked carefully.

he knew yifan, from the way the ends of his eyes crinkled whenever he smiled, to how he sounded as groaned in the bathroom whenever he ate too much milk, to how he looked, stifling his laughter whenever zitao would ask his uncle chanyeol some ridiculous question—_he knew yifan_.

that was his job, as his husband, his best friend, as the man who promised to be there forever, disregarding all ends.

and because he knew yifan, he knew that the man wouldn’t speak about what was bothering him when asked directly. junmyeon would have to employ other tactics, coax it out of him through blackmail, or tickle fights, or withholding sex, or—

“your brother visited,” was all yifan said after a while.

it was as if all air left his body. “oh.” he could feel yifan’s hand squeezing his knee, but junmyeon still couldn’t find it in him to say another word. or even move.

after a beat, he whispered hoarsely, as if his voice had been ruined with disuse, “what did he say?”

before yifan could even speak, zitao shifted, hugging panpan even closer. yifan took one last stroke at his son’s cheek, before getting up.

bitterness blossomed at junmyeon’s chest. whatever his brother said, it didn’t appear good.

but yifan seemed to sense his distress, lacing his fingers with junmyeon’s, pulling him up. after one last kiss to zitao’s forehead, junmyeon followed his husband, head bowed, staring at the floor.

“what did he say?” junmyeon asked again.

yifan shrugged. “just… you know… the usual, i guess.” he sighed. “i’m sorry, junmyeon.”

a weight settled inside junmyeon’s stomach. yifan rarely called him by his name. “…for what?” he heard himself say.

yifan refused to look up at him. “just… sorry. this isn’t the life that you deserve, junmyeon. you could have had so much in life, and i came in and ruined all of that. if i wasn’t in your life, what if—”

he didn’t know what came over him—maybe it’s the fact that his husband sounded so _sad_, or the fact that his husband sounded like _his brother_—but junmyeon took the three steps that separated him from yifan and gripped the man’s arms tightly.

shocked, yifan had no choice but to look at him.

“again, yifan: for what?” junmyeon said. “is that what hyung said earlier?”

yifan’s silence was answer enough.

“i wasn’t forced to do anything,” junmyeon started. “sure, i was 16—

“yeah, but—“

“_but,_” junmyeon stressed out. “i think you’re forgetting that _you_ were also 16.” he tried to give yifan a weak smile, but the man still refused to look at him, staring at the ground. “and it doesn’t matter what happened then, or what happens now—we have taotao. and doesn’t that make everything worth it?”

“wubwub…”

hearing his husband’s pet name again, junmyeon’s grin grew larger. “plus, i wouldn’t have taotao if it weren’t for you, wubs.”

yifan closed his eyes. junmyeon knew that the waves inside his husband were probably still there, threatening to overcome him, and he was simply trying to keep them at bay. so he decided it would be better if he helped.

he pressed a light kiss on the tip of yifan’s nose. “that alone makes up for all the would-haves and what-ifs in the world.”

* * *

> _The road to having Zitao wasn’t easy. Well, fine—_making_ him was easy, but keeping him wasn’t. My family didn’t want him, with my brother even having the gall to give me an envelope of money—money that he was giving me to use to get rid of my child._
> 
> _Meanwhile, as much as Yifan and his mother wanted to support us, life just liked to make it hard for all of us. Mama had just lost her job and both Yifan and I were deadbeat high school graduates. He had talent with art, but we both knew that money would be hard to come by._
> 
> _And then Zitao came. Somehow, as irrational as it sounded,_ him_ being there just made it all easier._
> 
> _I guess it's why I never had any regrets._

* * *

thursday was junmyeon’s day with zitao. it was the only day that he didn’t have class—well, almost. he did have class on that day, but it wasn’t his fault the professor couldn’t be bothered to hold class and liked assigning papers instead.

so every thursday morning, he woke up before the two most important people in his life, made actual breakfast (yifan’s culinary skills would forever be questionable), and took a moment to breathe and thank the universe for the life that he had been handed with.

it had been almost two weeks since that night with yifan and around twenty text messages from his brother too. “_i was there earlier, myeon_,” his brother had texted. _“did that husband of yours not say anything? is he actually that stupid?_”

the first half of his brother’s messages were like that—snide remarks and barbed jabs against yifan, the same old rhetoric that his brother had been spouting since the beginning. then, when junmyeon refused to answer, letting his brother pile him with vitriol, his texts and comments about yifan—and zitao—worsened.

_“you could have more, junmyeon. i could help you have more. stop settling for nothing and actually try to achieve something with your life,”_ his brother’s last text said. _“you already wasted four years keeping that kid; don’t waste your future too._”

well, if his brother thought zitao was a waste, then junmyeon was just right in not keeping his brother in his life.

he was mixing pancake batter when two long arms snaked around his waist, and yifan’s pointed chin poked his shoulder as the man hugged him from behind.

“mornin’,” yifan drawled out sleepily, before kissing the back of junmyeon’s head. “chocolate chip?”

yifan was already warm against his back, but now the warmth has settled in within junmyeon too.

junmyeon hummed in response, to which yifan groaned. “ugh. my favorite on the day i’m not here?” yifan’s hug grew tighter on his waist. “that’s unfair, wubwub.”

he would’ve believed his husband’s complaint, if only one of his hands weren’t traveling downwards and his lips weren’t trailing hot breathy kisses on his neck.

junmyeon squirmed, and elbowed his husband. “yah! taotao could wake up at any time!”

with a laugh, yifan got off of him and grabbed a mug to make coffee. “i’m just trying to wake you up properly, wubwub.”

junmyeon rolled his eyes. “aren’t you late for work already?”

yifan moved closer to him and pecked him on the lips. “yes, yes, wubwub. i’m leaving already.” he pouted. “_tsk_. from the way you’re acting it’s like you’re so excited to get rid of me.” the man even clutched at his chest, face grimaced in fake pain.

junmyeon took the whisk from the mixing bowl and smattered batter on yifan’s cheek. it was unhygienic, but he was done mixing the batter anyway. “there,” he said, smirking at his husband’s affronted face. “go, shower, and leave.”

yifan stuck his tongue out at him before yelling, “taotao! wake up! your appa’s being mean to baba again!”

* * *

zitao never really had a good time waking up without a father beside him, but it was worse when it was yifan gone. his son would usually throw a tantrum and be unconsolable for around an hour. then he’d be significantly calmer for the rest of the day—especially if yifan hasn’t come home yet.

in the beginning, junmyeon found himself with bitterness simmering inside, but yifan easily extinguished his fears.

“don’t be silly, wubwub,” yifan had said, gums peering out of his smile as he pinched junmyeon’s twitching nose—a habit he had when he was upset. “taotao doesn’t have a favorite dad. he’s just used to our routine and us being there at different times.”

it was then that he noticed just how different his four-year-old acted with the both of his parents. with yifan practically a stay-at-home father (except for thursdays when he had to actually meet with mr. chan, his agent-slash-mentor-slash-boss) and him studying full-time, zitao was already used to yifan being the one there all the time, while junmyeon’s presence was limited—and at times, not even centered on him.

he had a really hard time choking back the guilt when he realized that his son being calmer around him was because the boy had learned from all the times junmyeon had to juggle schoolwork on thursdays or even at nights for playtime.

so when zitao’s face scrunched up, lower lip wobbling and eyes tearing up, junmyeon was quick to show his son a plate of his freshly made chocolate chip pancakes.

“it’s okay, taotao,” he consoled his son, one hand rubbing at his son’s back while the other tried its best to balance the plate. “baba will be back soon! while he’s gone, appa made you pancakes!”

he knew this was pure bribery, but nobody said you had to play by the rules when it comes to parenting, so junmyeon made sure to put the plate directly where zitao would easily smell it. it must have worked, because zitao’s incoming tantrum abated, leaving the boy with just a few sniffles.

“ch-choc-let?” zitao asked, his teary eyes large.

“yes, taotao. you like that, right?” junmyeon said.

then his son bawled. he winced. that was not what he intended. he didn’t know why zitao was—

“b-but… baba… like choc-let!” zitao cried. “baba not here!”

inwardly, he groaned. maybe his son _did_ have a favorite.

* * *

_“wubwub, the client’s deadline was moved this weekend :((( mr. chan asked me to work overtime :(( don’t wait up. tell taotao im sorry TT_TT”_ was the text that greeted junmyeon as he was preparing zitao for bed.

the boy’s calm demeanor was slowly dissipating as his baba still wasn’t home. junmyeon could feel his son growing more antsy as every second passed, but he didn’t know how to break it to him that his baba wasn’t going to be able to go home tonight. it was just one of their things—it didn’t matter if junmyeon was gone for most of the day; all that mattered was both of them were home with zitao as he slept.

and as much as he’d like to say that that routine was solely for zitao, junmyeon knew how much both he and yifan took pride with that routine. it was like a constant reminder of the one thing that they knew—and they _promised_—for their son: presence.

junmyeon took a deep breath as he covered his son with the towel and dried his back, only half listening to zitao ramble about the powerpuff girls.

“appa, who favorite?” zitao asked, his round eyes growing wider with curiosity. “baba like blossom, ‘cause appa and blossom—same!” his son grinned, as if purposely showing all of his teeth.

junmyeon would never understand why yifan made their son believe as if good teeth was the key for a good life, but that eased zitao off the chocolates and the consequent cavities, so he really couldn't complain.

zitao’s rant wasn’t finished. “appa, blossom—smart, kind, bwave!” and despite the large grin that he gave junmyeon earlier, zitao’s smile grew even larger.

_god._ junmyeon was only human and yifan was right. how could somebody so little be so perfect? it didn’t matter if his son, who was still wet from his nightly bath, suddenly jumped to him and hugged him—_he was perfect_.

he hugged his son back, but still tried to dry him with the towel he was holding. parenthood taught him how to multitask . “well, how about you, taotao? who’s your favorite?” he asked.

zitao appeared deep in thought, his lips jutted out. “hmm,” he started. “mojo jojo… mojo jojo, uncle chanyeol… ears same, appa!”

now that should be mean, but his son was only four and was just giving an accurate observation, so junmyeon just coughed to cover the laughter threatening to rise from him. he tried to school his features in a nonchalant expression. “now, taotao—”

but zitao still seemed engrossed in thought. “but uncle chanyeol… he good,” he confidently concluded, utterly convinced. but, an air of hesitancy ghosted over his face. “other uncle… he bad,” zitao said, softer than before, his earlier bravado gone. normally, junmyeon would encourage this—after all, all the parenting books and the child psychology classes said to encourage your child’s learning process—but all his mind could register was _“other uncle_.”

“_‘other uncle’?_” he asked, trying to appear as unbothered as ever, even though he has quite a solid idea on who zitao meant, even though he didn’t want to acknowledge it. still, despite his attempt of denial, something heavy pressed against his chest, leaving him unable to breathe. it's like his life was on hold as he waited for zitao’s answer.

meanwhile, zitao just nodded hesitantly, as if he knew that he shouldn’t be talking about this.

junmyeon has seen this look on his son’s face before, when the boy showed up at home with scraped knees and bruised arms and he demanded to ask why. apparently, some smart-ass at the playground had the grand idea of bullying smaller children—particularly zitao who was quite slow with his speech—and scaring them from telling anyone else. junmyeon had read about abuse victims and trauma for class, but he never really thought that it could start in his child’s playground—or that zitao could be one of them—and _god_, did that thought fill him with so much fury.

he vowed never to let zitao have that undeserved guilt spread across his face again. seeing his son right now, it felt like he failed as a parent.

especially because right now, he knew exactly _who_ was at fault—and that man did not deserve to have his son covering for him.

and as a parent, it should be his job to make sure his son knew exactly that.

so junmyeon swallowed the tendrils of anger starting to rise off of him and smiled his best at zitao, the one that he knew comforted even yifan at his worst nights.

“who’s this ‘other uncle’ you’re talking about, baby?” he asked gently, stroking his son’s cheek.

zitao just hunched over and looked at the floor, his earlier energy now gone. his breathing was starting to become uneven, but with his clenched jaw and mouth tightly shut, it was easy to see how much the boy was trying not to cry.

he looked so much like how yifan did _that night_.

junmyeon let himself fall down to his knees to the floor and covered his son with the towel to pull the boy toward him into a hug. zitao let himself be pulled, and once the boy was chest to chest with his appa, it was as if the floodgates burst open.

“taotao?” junmyeon whispered, rubbing the boy’s back. zitao was crying his heart out, with little gasps and small whines in between as he struggled to keep his breath in check. it was like hearing a kicked puppy cry and every sound broke junmyeon’s heart.

“bad uncle…” taotao hiccupped, “s-said… not tell appa!” he sniffed. “bad uncle angry, mean to baba! s-said bad words.”

junmyeon hugged his son tighter as the grip on his chest made breathing feel more constricted. “shhh, taotao, shhh. calm down, baby, you’re going to make yourself sick,” junmyeon said, rubbing his son’s back even more, as the boy’s tears refused to subside.

“b-but… taotao bad,” zitao tearfully said, eyes filled with apology.

junmyeon was quick to deny his son, opening his mouth to interrupt, but zitao didn’t even let him talk.

“bad uncle s-said... t-taotao b-bad… because taotao fault why baba hurt. baba cried, appa. a-and taotao dumb talk—not good head,” zitao said, struggling both with his tears and his words. “a-and t-taotao wu… yu… rrrru… ru-ind appa life.”

junmyeon felt his insides turn to steel. he and his brother have had their differences and he has long accepted the fact that there are some things that they might just never see eye to eye. he knew that his life choice haven’t been ideal and how much he has disappointed his entire family. it was the reason why he and yifan had decided to live their lives without a single bad word against his family, despite everything that they’ve said—why they’ve decided to just let everything that came from his family be.

they were the ones who rushed into this too early, the ones who disobeyed against all of his family’s wishes—they were the ones who got into this, the ones to blame, so _fine_, they’ll swallow the hate that came along their way.

but zitao didn’t do anything wrong. all the boy did was be born to them as parents and particularly to junmyeon as his appa. every day, all zitao did was make junmyeon’s life better and brighter, even though heaven knows junmyeon didn’t deserve any of it.

so for his brother to show up at their house, spewing vitriol for his son who didn’t do anything wrong? he has long tried to search for a reason to justify cutting the man from his life entirely and perhaps, this was it.

junmyeon felt himself tearing up too, so he hugged his son tighter. “taotao, baby, no. you’re not dumb, and you didn’t ruin appa’s life. in fact, you’re my biggest blessing,” he said.

“b-bwe-bles-sing?”

junmyeon nodded. “it means you, taotao,” he poked his son’s nose, eliciting a small giggle from the boy, “is a really special gift given to appa.”

zitao hiccupped, then asked, “g-gift? but not appa bur-day, not krease-mas!”

even with tears in his eyes, junmyeon tried his hardest to smile at his son. “no, taotao. but you’re the gift i get every day, and i count myself lucky for that.”

* * *

> _I’m twenty years old, and I’m simultaneously _as old_ and _older than_ my peers. I’d like to think I’m fine with that, but sometimes, I’m betrayed with envious thoughts about how my classmates’ problems are probably centered on trying solve their Algebra homework, while I try to gauge what I can live with more: less sleep to play more with my son or risk him having a terrible childhood just because he was unfortunate enough to be born to teenage parents._
> 
> _Perhaps, it’s just human for me to envision my life not saddled with too much responsibility. But then again, as I try to wait for the human resentment and bitterness to come, it doesn’t. All that’s left with me is a picture of my worst-case scenario: a world without my son—and that alone tethers me to reality._
> 
> _After getting out of a toxic household, finding my best friend, overcoming the odds to get into university, and marrying my soulmate, the achievement that trumps it all is still my decision to keep Zitao._
> 
> _I have been a son, a brother, a friend, a husband, but nothing has ever made me more whole, or _myself_, than being a father. It is the best thing I ever did, and I know that nothing else will come close to surpassing that._

* * *

_“wubs, thank you for taotao. thank you for you. i thank the universe for the both of you,” _was the reply that yifan finally received two hours later.


End file.
